I once made the foolish mistake of mentioning my tummy-ache to my then 3 year old son in the middle of the supermarket. “You just need a big poo mum, don’t worry, you’ll do a humongous poo and everything will be ok,” so beautifully empathic but so fucking loud that half a world away my man-crush Jamie Foxx heard and his balls shimmied upward in revulsion. But you know what, that adorable little jerk was right – I barreled out a baby Clydesdale when I got home.
“The Food Baby: This is a big’n. It could have also been named The Behemoth and could be easily mistaken for a Clydesdale foal. It’s like a baby coming out your rectum, therefore, it is The Food Baby. This fella will make you fucking work for it. If an anesthetist came in halfway through and offered you an epidural, you’d grab that fucker with both hands and beg them to do it instantly. When it’s over, you’re overjoyed although you are tempted to check your anus with a hand-mirror for signs of tearing.”
Check out the Shannon’s Kitchen’s Shit List and see how many you can tick off.